


Keep You Safe

by TimeSorceror



Series: Keep You Safe [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Attacks, Bittersweet Parting, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment Mention, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Possible Pre-Fenders, Vaginal Sex, allusions to rape, allusions to torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:24:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7040677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeSorceror/pseuds/TimeSorceror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rashia met Anders in the Keep’s dungeons, she didn’t really have time to make a first impression. If anything, she saw someone capable of taking down darkspawn and didn’t much care about who they were or why they were there. (It wasn’t until later that she remembered who he was, shortly before Ser Rylock came down the highway with Queen Anora, accusing him of murder.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep You Safe

**Author's Note:**

> Good lord, this ended up being longer than I thought it would be. Technically I started this sometime around Christmas when I was replaying Origins with an new Warden, cause I couldn't stop thinking about something I'd written about my first Warden, Rashia, when I was doing some character development for her. This is basically the story of her and her relationship with Anders, so it's mostly Warden centric, but it does get steamy somewhere in middle though, so... be careful reading this at work/school.
> 
> Here's a link to a sketch of her if you need it: http://timesorceror.tumblr.com/post/137566244788/

When Rashia met Anders in the Keep’s dungeons, she didn’t really have time to make a first impression. If anything, she saw someone capable of taking down darkspawn and didn’t much care about who they were or why they were there. (It wasn’t until later that she remembered who he was, shortly before Ser Rylock came down the highway with Queen Anora, accusing him of murder.)

“You can’t have him.”

The words surprised her, as though they’d left her lips without her permission. But when she examined her feelings, she realized exactly how much she meant them. And she’d be rubbing another mage’s freedom in the face of this Templar, who she had to admit was being rather rude.

“Are you deaf?” she snapped, not caring that she was tearing into this templar in front of the Queen. “I said you can’t have him. I’m conscripting him for the Wardens!” Both Anders and Ser Rylock paled, but Anders seemed to be mostly okay with it once he realized the implications of her words. Ser Rylock, on the other hand, was furious, and tried to plead to Anora for help.

Anora met Rashia’s eyes and her lips quirked ever so slightly.

“You heard the Commander, Ser Rylock. The Ferelden Wardens are in dire need of new recruits to expand their ranks after what my father did to them at Ostagar. If the Warden Commander wishes to conscript, then I won’t deny them their rights. And neither should you,” she finished, her amused tone turning icy as she glared pointedly at the Templar, who could do little but seethe quietly.

A quick glance at Anders told her how happy the man was not to have to go back to the Circle. Mentally, she sighed. The poor sod. She wasn’t sure if she should hope that he lived through or succumbed to the Joining. The Circle hadn’t been kind to him, if she recalled correctly, but neither would the darkspawn dreams.

—

Later, after the Joining Ceremony, Rashia sat in the infirmary, curled up in an armchair she’d dragged in from a nearby dormitory. (That unusual strength she’d acquired from that spirit in the elven temple was good for some things, she’d found.)

Mhairi hadn’t made it. But Oghren and Anders had, though Anders had shuddered and screamed something awful before passing out, eyes rolling into the back of his head and then collapsing on the floor of the receiving hall.

Seneschal Varel had shown Rashia the Commander’s quarters after that, but she asked for directions to the infirmary instead, because she couldn’t stomach the thought of sleeping just yet after what she’d seen tonight. She shook her head and wrapped her blankets around her tighter, thinking of the talking darkspawn from earlier. If someone had told her yesterday that darkspawn could speak, she’d’ve laughed at them.

But now… she shuddered. It was easier for her here, surrounded by empty beds and vials and medical books. She was a Spirit Healer like Anders, places like this were almost comforting.

Speaking of the man… she glanced over at him. He still hadn’t woken, though for all she knew about how different people coped with the Joining he could wake up in the next few minutes or the next few days. And he’d wake up hungry and confused, so someone needed to be here when he woke up. She probably could’ve asked one of the herbalists she’d fetched some bandages for during the fighting, but she thought it might help having someone he knew.

Though it had been ages since she’d seen him… hadn’t he been sent to solitary nearly a year before she’d been conscripted by Duncan?

A chill went down her spine. Had he actually spent a year down there? Rashia could remember being down there for a couple days when she and another apprentice had been caught fumbling at each others’ robes in the herb closet. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience, but Irving had managed to convince Greagoir they were only curious teenagers that needn’t be punished so severely for their curiosity. 

But Anders had not been so lucky, she remembered. He was always plotting escapes, and was probably the reason why the Templars had stopped letting them go outside, after that time he’d run across the frozen Calahad… or was it the time he’d stolen one of the boats? Rashia couldn’t recall.

Anders shifted, whimpering, and she hoped that was a sign that he’d be waking soon. He jerked once, twice, cried out in his sleep; Rashia might’ve worried that the ritual hadn’t succeeded after all if she couldn’t sense the corruption in him settling. Finally he took in a deep breath and woke with a start, his eyes fluttering and darting around the room in a panic… until they came to her.

“Hey… I know you,” he murmured sleepily, “I remember you from the Circle.”

She nodded slowly. “Thought you’d want someone nearby that you knew. The Joining is… it can be disorienting.” He nodded slowly in return, frowning when his stomach gurgled with hunger. Rashia laughed, barely able to keep herself from descending into hysterics. 

“Hungry, are you?” she asked, standing and beckoning to him. “Come on, I’ll show you to the larder. You’ll be down there more often than not the first few days afterwards. ‘s something of a side effect of the Joining.”

Anders chuckled. “You make it sound like there are more, less pleasant side effects.” He grinned, but when he saw Rashia’s tired expression he paused.

“I was… kidding about that, you know. Are there, I mean…”

“There are,” Rashia replied, jerking her head as a signal for him to follow. “I mean, it’s darkspawn blood mixed with lyrium and some other things I can’t recall. Either way, the corruption’s in our blood now. There’s a lot of good things it does for us, increased appetite - which is why you’re so hungry right now - increased stamina…”

“Of what kind?” Anders leered. Rashia rolled her eyes. She forgotten how much of a flirt Anders was. 

“All kinds, Anders. And no, you can’t help me with mine.”

She pursed her lips, thinking of Alistair. He’d been sent to deal with some other darkspawn remnants on the other side of Ferelden and wasn’t likely to be back anytime soon.

“How presumptuous of you to say so, Rashia! Can I, can I call you Rashia?”

_Maker, he’s like a puppy desperate for attention_. Rashia sighed again as she opened the door to the larder. “Fine, fine, sure. But only in private. When we’re out in the field it’s probably best you just call me Commander, or even Amell if you can help it.”

Anders was already tucking into a large piece of bread and was about to heat up a large plate of salted ham when he stilled like a deer caught in torchlight.

Rashia sighed deeply, realizing the cause for his hesitation.

“It’s okay, Anders. You can heat up whatever you like with your magic. You’re safe here.” She smiled at him, and he blinked at her for a moment before returning it, almost shyly, and then digging into his selection of food once again. Rashia glanced over the selection and rifled through it for something she felt like making. Perhaps a snack wasn’t such a bad idea.

She could always tell him about the nastier side effects later, when she wasn’t so tired and the man could actually spare five minutes to pay attention…

—

She found Anders in the chair by the window some weeks later, after they’d added a former noble turned thief, a Dalish mage, and… well, what she was fairly certain was a Fade spirit of Justice trapped in the corpse of an Orlesian warden named Kristoff to their ranks.

That last one was a story she wasn’t keen on revisiting tonight. Darkspawn dreams were bad enough, and the times she actually had a pleasant visit to the Fade these days were few and far between what with the things she’d seen.

So, resigned to yet another night of little to no sleep, she’d gone down to the infirmary in the hopes of perhaps curling up in the chair and soaking the atmosphere for a nap before dawn… but it seemed that someone had beat her to it. Anders was there instead, fast asleep, and dreaming deeply if the distant call of the Fade was any indication. A quick glance at the windowsill revealed the tightly curled form of Ser Pounce-a-Lot, the young tabby she’d found in the rain a few days after settling in. She’d gifted him to Anders, remembering how fond he’d been of the Tower mouser.

Deciding not to wake him, she burrowed under the blankets of the bed nearest to the chair and listened to the sound of his breathing…

…until she suddenly found herself wide awake and faced with a quivering mess of a mage in her lap, his tall frame bent in on itself as he was draped over her lap and off the side of the bed. After a few moments of disorientation she recovered herself, slipping into full healer mode as she reached up to thread a hand through his hair to calm him.

All the while, she hummed a melody under her breath and didn’t stop until his breathing evened out and he pulled away, still partially stuck in whatever nightmare he’d found himself in.

“Darkspawn?” she asked after awhile. “Or was it… something else?”

They’d spoken recently about their time in the Circle after meeting Wynne outside the Amaranthine Chantry, though she’d had trouble getting the truth out of him. She still worried he wasn’t telling her everything, particularly about the extent of his stay in solitary confinement and the abuses he’d likely suffered at the hands of the Templars.

His eyes darkened for a moment, his pupils dilated with fear, before he shook it away and shrugged, flashing a transparent grin at her.

“Darkspawn. What else would it be? Nasty buggers interrupted a good nap they did!” He laughed, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Rashia just stared at him blankly. “Anders. Cut the bullshit. You know I can tell when you’re lying.” She sighed, and scooted over in the unusually large infirmary bed, dragging him with her. He squeaked, not having expected her to use her magical strength against him.

“Hey, now!” he jokingly admonished her, “If you really wanted me in bed with you all this time, really, you could’ve asked.” And then at last the smile did reach his eyes as he grinned at her again and continued, “I always wondered what I might do to you if I could ever get you alone, but that was… before…”

“Karl,” Rashia prompted. “I remember him. He got transferred shortly after your Harrowing, didn’t he? I remember being very upset about that… I quite enjoyed his carving projects.” 

And then she frowned at him, though she couldn’t keep the gentle smile from tugging at the edges of her lips.

“I can’t honestly say what trouble we would’ve gotten to back then, nor could I tell you about now. This was… something of a spur of the moment decision,” she confessed, “I just remembered how much it helped to sleep so close to another Warden, to Alistair… and I thought it might help you. That and I’m tired of being tired and having a warm body will help me sleep too, so don’t you go getting any ideas!”

Anders chuckled. “So I’m just a replacement for your Warden lover? Should I be flattered?”

“I… yes? No? I don’t…” Rashia sighed, turning over on her stomach and burying her face into the front of his Warden robes. “…he’d like you, I think. And he’d understand if I developed other attachments while he was away, he said so just before we parted after we’d been assigned new duties from Wiesshaupt.”

She huffed softly. “So, no, you’re not a replacement. But as for anything else… just know that I care, Anders. And I’m not about to stop. Sleep well, friend.”

In moments, Anders was left stunned, his Commander draped across him like a human blanket. Well, there were worse fates, he supposed. And perhaps having her next to him might help him sleep after all.

—

A fortnight had passed since then. 

They had only slept apart twice after the incident in the infirmary, once that first night after and again when Rashia had gone out to a Deep Roads entrance and had to stay out a night to recover while bringing back the new recruit, a Dwarven rouge and a member of the Legion of the Dead.

Being next to Anders helped with her own sleeping troubles, she realized, and she was getting better at handling the affairs of the arling as a result.

“Busy again, beautiful?” came a familiar voice from around the corner. A familiar blonde head poked around the door to her quarters, Rashia rolled her eyes. “Yes of course, knucklehead. This arling unfortunately doesn’t run itself. But I think being able to get some proper sleep for once is helping my patience some.” She turned away from her work to look at him properly and flashed him a soft smile. 

“You’ve been helping with that, I think. Thanks a bunch.”

Anders tsked and waggled a finger at her. “No, no. Thank _you_. I’m the one who gets to wake up next to a beautiful woman every morning instead of any of our delightful companions’ sorry mugs…” Anders made a face, “…or smells.”

Rashia giggled, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Are you talking about Oghren or Justice?” she quipped, which made Anders laugh. “Little bit of both,” he said ruefully, “but mostly Oghren. Justice was merely picking at my brain today but it was getting on my nerves so I decided to leave it with Sigrun before I did anymore damage to the body the spirit is trapped in…” He frowned.

“Still no ideas on how to help get it back into the Fade? Or how to help preserve the body? I mean, I’ve already written to Avernus, but it’s going to take forever for that letter to get to Soldier’s Peak, and then he has to compose a reply - that is, if he knows anything useful to begin with and…” Rashia sighed.

“Also, I know Fade Spirits are supposed to be genderless, but I’m quite uncomfortable calling Justice an ‘it’ when we’re with the others.” Anders nodded and gave a little half shrug as he leaned back against her armoire. 

“Hnn. Thought that was just me. Thing is, I don’t know what being trapped in that body outside the Fade for this long is doing to it… hasn’t turned into a demon thus far, but–” Rashia held up a finger, “–that’s because we haven’t denied it it’s original purpose, which is one of the things that turns a spirit into a demon in the first place. C’mon, you should know this. I mean, I recognize that you were involved in more, ahem… extracurricular activities than I was, but you read the same books. I know you did, you passed your Harrowing too.”

Anders, who had been staring at a spot on one of the bedposts turned his head to her with a mild expression of surprise on his face.

“You were Harrowed? When? How did I miss that?”

Rashia went quiet, her eyes darting to the side, and she seemed to unconsciously hunch in on herself. 

“You, ah…” Anders blinked, then turned back to the bedpost. “I see.”

“I was conscripted not long after that when Duncan came looking for new recruits. Might’ve saved me from being thrown in solitary or even Tranquility…”

Anders scoffed, looking at her again. “Really? What did you do? You were never quite the… escaping type like me.” Rashia gave him a sad smile. “Do you remember Jowan?” Anders thought for a moment. “Yeah, think so. Bit shorter than me, dark hair… was really chummy with you and one of the Chantry sisters, right?” Rashia nodded.

“Lily. Well, they came to me a few days after my Harrowing, the morning of the day Duncan arrived, and they told me that they wanted to be together. Like seriously together. They needed the help of a Harrowed mage with access to the Tranquil storage to get a fire rod to help open a door to the phylactery room, and…”

“You didn’t. You actually helped them?”

Rashia sighed. “Yeah. I don’t even remember why anymore. All I can remember besides finding Jowan’s phylactery and destroying it is what happened after… apparently he’d been sneaking some looks at some of the blood magic books and – don’t give me that look!” Rashia growled, but fell back into her chair with a deep sigh. “Greagoir was tearing me a new one after Jowan escaped and Lily was carted off to Aeonar. Duncan did me one hell of a favor, conscripting me, though to this day I’m not certain I deserved it.”

Anders was silent for a while after that, until he gave her a tired look and folded his arms across his chest, earring glinting in the candlelight.

“Well, I suppose I should be grateful that he did. Might not be here, otherwise.”

Rashia blinked in surprise, looking up to meet his eyes. “I… suppose so,” she agreed. Time and circumstance were fickle things indeed, she thought. “Well, in any case, we have a mission to go on tomorrow, right? We should probably sleep. But you,” she paused, standing and tapping a finger to his chest for dramatic effect, “should freshen up a little. You do reek a little of Oghren.”

Anders sighed, exasperated. “Well, if I must. Sure you can’t join me?” he teased, waggling his eyebrows at her. Rashia stared at him, stonefaced.

“Alright fine, fine!” I’m on it!” he said, laughing, and headed into the bathroom.

Rashia watched him go, letting her eyes linger on his form. The warden mage robes did wonders for a man like him, and while she had originally told him when they’d first started sharing sleeping quarters that it was mostly out of practicality, now she wasn’t so sure. She was still quite in love with Alistair and missed him deeply, but Anders… Anders was _here_ , and _familiar_.

And he needed her. Of that she was absolutely certain.

Without even meaning to, she moved towards the door and entered, her years of being raised in the Circle and again traveling with her companions during the Blight having conditioned her to live with little personal privacy. Anders heard the door behind him open, and while he’d always been something of an exhibitionist, he was very much in a state of undress and – oops. Too late.

Rashia looked up, feeling her cheeks flush a little.

“Ah, sorry. I… well, forgot there was an actual door I could’ve knocked on.” 

She coughed, letting her eyes roam over him again. This time the man was nearly naked except for the leggings she’d insisted he wear beneath the robes. (”Easier to run from darkspawn that way,” she’d explained. “Learned that the hard way before I learned how to channel my magic to help me wear proper armor.” Anders had seemed to agree, having worn them ever since.) 

And, despite the scars, she had to admit that the man was very handsome, what with all those cleanly defined muscles and that shadow of stubble covering his cheeks. He’d pulled out his hair tie too, damp reddish gold strands hanging around his face, stray beads of water dripping onto his chest and rolling down towards the waistband of the leggings.

“You know, if you wanted to ogle me, you could’ve just said so,” he gently prodded, chuckling. “And I suppose a life of living in the circle does make one forget to knock when entering.”

“Not to mention that I jumped straight from that life to another spent camping in tents off the side of the road.” She turned to him and added, deadpan, “They were not large tents.” Anders laughed, and Rashia couldn’t even be bothered to hide her wandering eyes now as the muscles in his abdomen rippled with his his laughter. “Yeah, that doesn’t help either, does it?” He flashed another grin.

“So now that you’ve seen me half naked, does that mean we’ll eventually graduate to fully naked at some point? With lots of touching?” 

Rashia groaned. “Not if you keep leering at me like that! Here,” she spat playfully, tossing him a nearby sleeping shirt, “get dressed and come to bed. Besides, what you’ve got under those leggings is nothing I haven’t seen.” She took a moment to brush her hair and wash her face before Anders could finally process what she’d just said.

“Wait… when did..?” “Not. Telling.” “Hey, no fair!”

Rashia snickered to herself as she straightened up her correspondence and writing materials. She didn’t plan on ever telling him that she was only teasing. She was a healer, so sure she’d seen plenty. And maybe she would actually get to turn her little white lie into a truth… someday.

For now she was content just to be close to him and savor the feelings of peace and safety he’d brought to her restless nights for as long as she could.

—

Rashia turned just in time to watch him fall.

The Mother had pulled Anders by the waist and threw him up into the air shortly following that, tossing him upwards like a ragdoll. Rashia couldn’t even cry out, her throat hoarse and saliva tasting of blood and other things, and so all she could do was watch as he landed, finally managing to whimper in protest.

No one could’ve survived that, surely.

But there was a flash of bright light and a warm, soothing heat spreading through her chest that felt like more of that old Tevinter magic, and suddenly he was back up again, only a little worse for wear and frantically targeting a lightning storm at the Mother while Rashia hurried to call up a blizzard and strengthen the spell the way Wynne had shown her once, creating a spell combination that had a far greater range and intensity than either the blizzard or the tempest had on their own.

Up ahead, Nathaniel and Justice were in the storm’s eye, hacking away at the remaining tentacles, and she struggled to keep up her healing spells as the storm they’d created slowly sapped away their life forces. 

“I think it’s almost dead,” Anders coughed, also trying to help support their companions who were in the center of the action ahead. Rashia nodded, noting how many cuts and blisters the Mother had accumulated by this point, and soon the storm would abate just in time to deliver a final blow.

“Justice!” she called above the gale, not pausing to look for any confirmation that he’d heard, “on my signal, finish it!” 

And only moments later, the roar of the winds cut dramatically. 

“Now, Justice!” Rashia called.

Justice leapt, surprisingly spry for a possessed corpse (though Rashia wasn’t going to bother questioning it at this point), and nailed a successful killing blow straight to the Mother’s head, his blade halfway buried in her skull before he struggled to pull it out and leap back to safety before his precarious perch disappeared, and he with it.

But _still_ the creature persisted. Rashia growled furiously, pooling her remaining mana into her hands, filling the space between them with lightning. Once Justice and Nathaniel were safely out of the way, she unleashed the bolt at the Mother’s chest, satisfied at last when it ceased its movements afterwards.

Rashia sighed with relief, wiping sweat out of her eyes and moving most of the hair that had escaped its bun behind her ears, though a few stubbornly persisted.

“Let’s… let’s go,” she breathed, turning back to her companions. “I want a bath, a meal, and perhaps a drink. Several drinks. Then I want to sleep forever.”

“Seconded,” Nathaniel rumbled. “No complaints here,” Anders quipped, though his tone was missing much of its usual lightness. 

Justice said nothing, though whether it was because he didn’t really need either of those things (except perhaps the bath) or that he was still angry with her for sparing the Architect, she couldn’t tell. She’d have to ask him about that later. And so they departed from that accursed place for the Vigil, Rashia absentmindedly rubbing at her jaw, waiting for the slow trickle of mana restoration to be enough to heal the fractures and stop the flow of bleeding where she’d bit to deeply into her tongue and all she could taste was blood.

Why hadn’t the stupid ancient Tevinter magic healed _that_?

“Hey, hold on.” Rashia blinked. When had they arrived? She turned, feeling a familiar hand gripping her arm gently, coming face to face with Anders.

There was a brief moment of silence before the words tumbled from her lips.

“Y-You… you were dead,” she whispered hoarsely, tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. “I… I felt the Fade shift and you weren’t moving and I–”

“Hush,” Anders admonished quietly, pulling Rashia gently in the direction of the infirmary. Once, they were there, he sat her down and massaged a bit of healing magic into her jaw, fixing the bones and her tongue. She could still taste the blood, however.

“I’m still here,” he said after a while. “I don’t know how, and I don’t care.”

She met his eyes and drank in the unshed tears that mirrored her own. “All I know is how glad I am that I didn’t miss out on the chance to do this…”

“What mmpf–?!”

Rashia felt cool, chapped lips against her own. She licked at them, tasting the salt of sweat, and licked them again to moisten them. They parted, and her eyes fluttered in time with her frantically beating heart as she realized _Anders_ was kissing her. Kissing! 

She moaned, the sound low and rumbling in her throat, to which Anders could only respond in kind, and as much as she wanted to continue, she had to fight to pull away.

“Anders, Anders, hold… wait. I still want that bath, and some food, something to drink…” she grinned at him, remembering the bottle of Aqua Magus she had stashed away in the library, where she was certain Oghren wouldn’t go looking for more drinks to sample. 

“A lot of something to drink. Then we can continue this… if we don’t immediately fall asleep afterwards. Deal?”

Anders’ returning smoulder was answer enough. She licked her lips again.

They didn’t taste like blood anymore.

—

Nearly two months later, the letter from Wiesshaupt came.

“Commander Amell,” Varel called one morning while Rashia was once again chest deep in Arling correspondence. “Mail for you. Urgent.”

“Come in,” she called, still scribbling away furiously.

The Seneschal came in, the door creaking slightly as it opened. Rashia paused, thinking of the, ah... abuse it had taken a night or two ago. It had been a lovely night, belly full of food and a shot and a half of Aqua Magus, Anders’ hands wandering all over. She sighed happily as she glanced down at the letter, deeming it about as finished as it was going to get. So she signed and sealed it quickly before standing to face Varel.

“May I enquire about the send – oh.” 

Varel held out the letter to her, the official seal of the Wardens burned into a disk of blood colored wax.

“Urgent, you said,” she grumbled quietly. “You could’ve mentioned it was Wiesshaupt.” Varel glanced at the letter warily, as though he were filled with trepidation about the contents as well. “I apologize. I shall clarify next time if you wish.”

But Rashia stopped hearing him the moment her eyes hit the page.

They’d heard about the talking Darkspawn. The Mother, the Architect. How she’d killed one but the other was still... mysteriously missing. They wanted her to testify about the state of the Arling. In person. They also wanted to know how she was even still alive. Had she not slain the Archdemon?

She was to leave within the month. Another commander, Stroud, was supposed to take her place, temporarily. He was bringing a few other Wardens with him to help bolster the Vigil’s ranks.

She practically fell back into her chair, head propped up in one hand, the letter clutched in the other, pressed firmly against her lap.

“Commander?” Seneschal Varel inquired, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Rashia closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

“I... don’t know. Wiesshaupt wants me to leave the Vigil to testify about the mess that happened two months ago. The talking darkspawn, the state of the arling, everything. In person. A replacement is being sent. An... Andraste’s ashes...”

“I take it that you would rather not go, milady?” 

His voice was low, still full of concern, but with a hint of sympathy. She looked to meet his eyes, which were looking upon her with patient kindness.

“No. I would rather not.” She frowned, glancing back down at the letter and away again. “I just... I don’t want to leave my... _my_ Wardens. I worry about how they’ll get on without me. How the arling will get on without me. An–Anders especially. He’s a good healer, better than good, but he’s flighty and wary of warriors and I’d hate to see him scared away just because I’m not here to make this a safe place for him.”

There was silence for a little while before Seneschal Varel finally spoke.

“Commander... ah, no. Wait. May I call you Rashia?”

Rashia looked up, set the letter on the desk and stood to meet his eyes. Her brow knit in confusion, but Varel’s gentle tone and kind eyes soothed her. A memory of a feeling from a long time ago stirred in the back of her mind, and she nodded her ascent as she tried to place its origin.

“Rashia, then. You must know that you can’t ignore their summons.” She nodded. “Of course not. I know better than that.”

A sad smile crinkled the edges of his eyes.

“Do what you think is necessary to keep them safe. And remember it’s okay to be worried.” The smile widened, and suddenly Rashia remembered what his kindness reminded her of. “Why... why advise of this? And so candidly?”

Varel tilted his head to her by way of an answer.

“Because I have seen many Commanders come and go from this place. But _you_ are the only one I have ever come to care about. I... have regrettably never married because for too long I have loved my work more than life, but if had a wife and child, you would be a daughter of mine in which I would be very proud. Lesser men can only dream to cultivate the strength that comes so effortlessly to you. That, and I know you care deeply for that young man.”

Rashia was speechless. She sniffed, and at once she rubbed furiously at her eyes to keep her tears from falling.

“I... I don’t know what to say. I only barely remember my father. And... would you truly have been so proud of me if, at six years old, I accidentally set fire to your favorite rug, and quickly proceeded to try to put it out, only to cover it with a sheet of ice?”

Varel laughed. “Is _that_ how your magic manifested? I...” He paused, thinking a moment. “I would’ve likely been a little afraid. And a little put out about the damage to my favorite rug, of course.”

Rashia giggled.

“But,” he continued seriously, “I don’t think I could’ve sent you to one of those Circles. I would’ve had a mage Warden teach you, if it were possible. Perhaps requested a conscript or a transfer if none were around. But, to answer you question, no. I would not have been proud about the damage to my theoretical rug, however I would be proud to watch you grow up and learn to hone your skills like any other warrior.”

“As it should be,” Rashia finished quietly. “Thank you, Varel.”

He nodded and gave her a short bow.

“Shall I tell the others about... the news from Wiesshaupt?” Rashia shook her head. “No. I would rather they hear it from me. Anders is going to be wound up enough without you giving the address instead.” 

He nodded. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Just don’t drag your feet about the issue, yes? I know you, Commander.” He winked. “Rashia.”

She nodded again. “It’ll be done by the end of the week. But not today... I need... some time to think about things.” And so they exchanged a few more pleasantries before he excused himself to continue his duties to the keep and she turned back to her desk.

Slowly, she placed the letter aside, put her head into her hands and cried for a very long time.

\---

“And so that’s the way of things,” she finished, pointedly not looking at any of her Wardens.

“So... these Wiesshaupt people want you to report in?” Sigrun asked. 

Rashia let her lips twitch in a smile for a moment. Brave little Sigrun. 

“Yes,” she answered her, “And it has to be me–” “–and _only_ you?” interjected Nathaniel. “It sounds like a political play to me. To get you out of here.” He scowled, though it was hard to tell if he was scowling harder than usual as his resting expression always seemed to be a scowl of some description.

“But why?” Justice mused. “What is the point of all this?”

Velanna was simmering over her tea, uncharacteristically quiet. Oghren was staring at her, his eyes unusually clear. She tried not to look at Anders.

Rashia sighed, exasperated. “Look, it is what it is. I’ll be leaving at the end of the month so as to make it through the Anderfels before the snows come in earnest. You have until then to get used to the idea, so... right. Just... I... ugh. Nathaniel?”

Nathaniel sat up straighter, eyebrow raised. “Yes, Commander?”

“I can’t place you in command of the Wardens of the Keep while I’m gone, but I can name you acting Arl in my stead, correct?” Nathaniel nodded slowly. “Something to that effect. I believe so, yes. Why do you ask?” 

“Mostly because you’re the only one here who likely has any knowledge of how to do so, but... well.” Rashia was quiet for a little while before she spoke again. 

“I’ve worked hard to make this a safe place for my people _and_ my Wardens. I don’t want anyone getting any ideas about threatening my people, whether its from within or without.” She stood up, her back so ramrod straight she knew she was going to have trouble sleeping on it later.

She looked out over the mess hall, though she was too keyed up to meet anyone’s eyes.

“You have a problem while I’m gone? You take it to Nathaniel. Anything at all. I mean it. Anything. Well...” she trailed, clearing her throat, “Oghren, if you run out of things to drink, I recommend going to the city, not badgering Nathaniel, got it?” 

There was a collective chuckle that flitted around the room.

“You got it, boss.” Oghren grumbled, raising a tankard to her. She smiled at him fondly. “Thanks, Oghren. Now... I’m going to turn in, but feel free to do whatever you wish with the rest of your evening. Just remember which of you is out on patrol tomorrow, and don’t be late! If I hear one more time from Varel that you were late for patrols...”

“We get it,” Velanna finally chimed in, still stewing over her cup of tea, though with a more resigned look on her face. “Go get some sleep, _lethallan_.” 

Rashia excused herself then and bolted for her rooms as soon as she was certain no one would hear. She closed the door behind her, feeling a swell of anxiety sink in. She knew that Anders was going to follow at some point, and he hadn’t said a word the entire time. She climbed into bed, grabbing one of the pillows she knew he used and buried her face in it while she wrapped the coverlet around her like a blanket shield.

It felt like an age later when the doorknob rattled and Anders stumbled in, causing her to yelp. He blinked at her, eyes red-rimmed and bleary, though whether it was from tears or drink she couldn’t tell.

She was still breathing hard, and he frowned when he came close enough to hear. 

“Are you... are you all right?” he finally asked as he sat down next to her. She frowned, grimacing. He definitely smelled like Oghren’s personal brew of ale. She shook her head in response, clutching the pillow tighter. 

“Can’t... stop... chest... hurts... feels like... I’m having...” she whined, the anxiety spilling further into her gut. 

His healer mode seemed to override everything else at that moment, despite being upset and very obviously drunk. “Hey, hey, look at me. Can you meet my eyes for a moment? Yes, just like that.” Rashia’s head cleared a little as she met his eyes for the first time since earlier that morning. They were such a deep, soothing amber color that seemed to help more than he did, directing her to take deep breaths at specific intervals until she was breathing normally again.

“I... you. I didn’t know how face you after... tonight.” She looked away, still clutching his pillow. Anders watched her, wondering how such a fearsome woman could look so small... until he remembered his own experience with anxiety. It tended to do that to people, he recalled vaguely.

“Is this what’s been bothering you these last few days? Really, Rashia... I...”

He paused, shaking his head. “I’m here now,” he said softly, crawling onto the bed and coaxing her into his arms. “I’m... well, right now I’m mostly drunk, so I don’t really know how much of what I’m feeling is real but... this whole... Wiesshaupt thing? It’s... it’s not something I can control. You’re... gonna be gone and I’m... just gonna have to deal. It’s okay. I’m a big mage.”

Rashia huffed softly. “I know, it’s just, I... uhh.” She sighed deeply.

“Hey, why don’t you sleep on it, hmm? And we can talk in the morning.” 

She nodded sleepily, though she tore the blankets from him as he was trying to sidle under the covers next to her. “No, no. You need to go freshen up before you do any sleeping, messere. You reek of Oghren’s ale.”

Anders laughed and she sunk under the covers, watching him disappear into the bathing chambers. Moments later, her tension lifted, and she quickly slipped into the Fade shortly after he slipped back into bed, cradling her against him, still clutching his pillow.

\---

Anders raised a hand to the blindfold, fingers gently pressing underneath the fabric. The dark still made him nervous sometimes, but it was Rashia who had put it on him so he trusted that eventually she would take it off.

“Still okay?” he heard her ask, and he turned his head toward the sound.

“Yeah. Blindfold’s a little itchy though. Can’t I take it off soon?”

“Soon,” she told him, her voice warm and curling like orange smoke in his mind. She was leaving tomorrow, so she no doubt had something special planned for tonight. His heart ached a little when he thought about it, but he knew she’d be back eventually, and there were plenty of other pretty people around the keep to pursue while he waited for her return.

“So, is that fancy-pants Orlesian going to take your rooms while your gone? And where am I going to be? I mean, technically I have a bed somewhere that I haven’t used... well, ever, really. I mostly slept in the infirmary before you.”

Rashia laughed. Her laugh was like sunshine, he thought. Her other Warden lover, Alistair, was a lucky man indeed.

“That fancy-pants Orlesian is your new commander, Anders. You should refer to him as such. As for my rooms... well, they’re going to stay my rooms. I had Varel find Stroud another set of suitably adequate quarters until I get back. 

“But you won’t be able to get in them, unless you can convince Nathaniel or Sigrun to pick the locks for you, though I don’t recommend it. Varel knows I’m sweet on you, but he’d have my hide if he knew you had one of the other Wardens picking the locks to my rooms. So.. you should probably move your things to the infirmary instead, since you’ll pretty much be the Keep’s only Healer while I’m gone. There’s quarters somewhere nearby, though you’ll have to ask the seneschal where they are, exactly.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said brightly, or what he hoped sounded bright. He knew that her leaving was affecting the both of them strongly, and drawing her attention to it would only make things worse.

Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice.

Instead, she opened a door and Anders could feel the cool autumn air hit his face. She was leading them outside? “Dinner under the stars?” he murmured, “How romantic of you.” She laughed again. “Well, you bring it out in me, you do,” she teased, “but first we should warm up a bit, shall we?”

Anders grinned, and he twitched when Rashia flicked his forehead gently with her fingers. 

“Ugh, Anders. When does your mind _not_ go to sex?”

Now it was Anders’ turn to laugh. “Well, I _am_ a man, Rashia. I have needs.”

He could practically hear her head shake as she sighed deeply, her gentle chuckling full of her affection for him. And then she was opening another door and warmth was once again surrounding them. Anders took a deep breath, catching hints of familiar herbs like elfroot and embrium. There were hints of more exotic things here too, like dawn lotus, felandaris, Prophet’s Laurel...

Then he felt her fingers slip underneath the blindfold, his eyes immediately closing at their close proximity.

“Oh, sorry. I should have warned you. Hey, you can open your eyes now, it’s all right.” And slowly, so he could adjust to the light again, he opened his eyes.

Just as he suspected, she’d brought them to the greenhouses. All around them were plants and small trees of every description he knew of, and even some he did not. The warmth was heavy, full of their intermingling scents and the dampness that always came with such places. But it was not oppressive. It was, in fact, quite the opposite, a very calming sensation. Light spilled in from above from the moon and the stars, and in the very center of it all was an inviting little pallet of pillows and blankets that sat next to a few trays of fruit and meats that were easy enough to eat with one’s hands.

“Well, this must have certainly taken some planning, didn’t it?” he purred, the two of them settling themselves on the pallet and digging in to the food set out for them. She nodded, briefly chewing on a square of salted pork before swallowing and answering.

“I wasn’t sure what to do for my last night here... until I remembered how much you liked the stars. And being under them. And when you’re not reeking of Oghren or one of his many... unique ales, you always smell of elfroot. I figured the greenhouse gardens would be a perfect place to spend the night.”

He blinked at her in surprise. “I... wasn’t aware that you paid that much attention to me.” She smiled at him. “I got you Ser Pounce, did I not? Oh, you should move his things with you when you take yours out of my rooms. Don’t want him to be without his toys, would we?” He nodded, but seemed to understand that she wanted to move on to something else. Few people ever bothered to see him as anything more than the flirtatious healer, but he was rather glad that Rashia was one of them.

And so it went like that for a while, the two of them eating and laughing, and even drinking a little when Rashia finally procured another of her precious bottles of Aqua Magus. They were feeling pleasantly happy when Rashia pressed against him, pinning him gently into the pallet beneath them.

“You are wearing entirely too many clothes,” she whispered, tugging at his collar impatiently. 

“And you’re being unusually forward,” he whispered back, concern edging into his voice a little as he stopped her pawing by cradling her chin in one hand. “Not that I don’t love the change, but... I worry.” She seemed surprised for a moment, caught off guard by his concern, until she gently pulled his hand away and pressed her hips in ever so slightly, causing Anders to shiver with desire. They hadn’t even gotten to the good bits and he was already on edge!

“Don’t. Worry, that is.” He voice was soft, but her gaze was hard and her eyes half-lidded with her own longing.

“Alistair always preferred to let me set the pace of things,” she told him idly as she slowly untied the laces and buttons of his shirt. “But I knew from what I’d heard about you from our peers was that you liked being in control. Of course, I also knew you didn’t mind it the other way around, but I wanted to see if that was something I enjoyed... so when you and I started being intimate with one another, I let you lead.” 

Still not moving from her perch, she let herself grind against him as she pulled back to undo his belt and the laces of his trousers, untucking his shirts and finally pulling them free from him. She grinned, triumphant.

“Really? And how did you come to the conclusion that I liked being in control?”

She shrugged, setting aside the shirts and running her hands slowly up and down his sides. Scars littered his skin, some from their forays into the Deep Roads, and some she guessed were from Templars. Punishments that never quite healed right.

“Well, I didn’t want to assume. But it seemed like you needed something to have control over, seeing as you’ve had so little opportunity for that since being hauled off to the Tower.” 

She leaned over him, bending to nuzzle the soft tufts of reddish gold hair that were smattered across his chest. “After all, you never had control over when you ate your meals–” his breath hitched as she licked one nipple, teasing the other with her right hand “–or when you could bathe, or who you bathed with, the books you read–” she switched nipples, this time gently taking the now excited nub between her teeth while she fondled the other with her left hand “–and even I simply conscripted you into the Wardens without you even having a say so, never mind that I probably saved your life by doing it.”

Rashia moved up to kiss him, and Anders was so floored by the intensity of it, he barely registered his own arousal. That is, until she pulled away and it came back in full force. He whined. “N-not that I’m complaining here, but I guess I know what... know what you mean...” He felt his heart racing, thudding against his chest, and he held her close for just a moment.

“Seems like you need to be in control tonight, huh love? Is that what you need?” Their gazes locked, and he could feel her trembling with some emotion he couldn’t name. She came closer, pressing her forehead to his.

“That is... if you don’t mind...” she breathed, an almost pleading whine hovering at the edge of her voice. 

“Have at it,” Anders whispered back, “just... you know, be careful.” 

She nodded pulling his hands to the laces of her own shirt. “Well then, help me out a little won’t you? Turnabout is fair play, and I’m a little overdressed.” Anders grinned, and helped her make short work of her shirt, though he left her to deal with her breast band. Once she was finished, she palmed his erection through his trousers, delighting in watching him writhe at her ministrations. Then she quickly pulled them down, along with his smalls, though she kept hers on for now. 

As Wardens, they could go at this for a while (which they had, even despite heavy drinking) so she wanted to get him off once before really getting into a good rhythm. She gripped him at the base, a few fingers stroking the space between his penis and balls. She scooted down further, licking gently at the tip before growing bolder and taking him into her mouth.

She couldn’t quite manage to relax her throat enough to take him in all the way, which was unfortunate, but he seemed to be enjoying things well enough anyway. Anders was a puddle under her hands, and he was glad he’d decided to let her take care of things. Her demeanor tonight was so different than how their couplings usually went. It was so arousing it hurt. He could feel himself approaching climax quickly, though he was certain that’s what she wanted, considering how long they could go. Still, better to warn her first.

“Nngh, Rashia... I’m close. Ahh...”

She pulled away, moving her hand to pump him quickly while the other gripped his hip and she descended on his left nipple again, gently pulling with her teeth. Alistair wasn’t much for nipple play, but Anders responded to it so beautifully that she couldn’t help herself. Anders’ hip jerked a little, and she moved away just in time to watch his chest become coated in thick, milky ropes. 

He was still hard in her hand, though, but she would get to that soon enough. She reached over for a cloth that she dipped lightly in a bowl of water, wiping him down. “Still good?” she asked, “Need to change positions? Another pillow?” Anders moaned softly. “Mmm... think I’m good for now. What about you? I know you can get off only by rubbing, but you’re usually pretty loud about it... you want some help?”

“Well, if you’re offering...” she scooted up and over, resting gently on his hips. He tugged at her trousers and small clothes, both of them sighing when there was only skin on skin. He reached up to fondle her breasts, and she moaned when he pulled her closer to take a nipple in his mouth. Turnabout was fair play indeed. Anders knew she enjoyed nipple play as much if not more than he did, so it was always a delight to give back as much as she gave.

It wasn’t long until she crested, having worked herself into a good frenzy while simply undressing him earlier. 

“Yes,” she purred, “that’s the spot. Want to move onto the main event or draw this out some more?” Anders chuckled. “Sure. But you know we’ll be at it for a while. Want to help cement this night to memory so that it can keep me company one those lonely nights while you’re away...”

She grabbed a nearby jar full of healing salve and gently worked herself open. Sadly, she rarely took pleasure in doing this herself, but all she wanted right now was to ride Anders while she watched him fall apart with pleasure. “Oh, I intend to make this night memorable,” she said huskily, her breath hitching a little at the initial discomfort when she sunk down. “I want to watch you lose yourself in me as you’ve never done before... to let go and to trust me to hold you up before you fall too far...”

Now, seated to the hilt, she bent over and threaded her fingers through his hair. He carded hers in turn while they waited to acclimate, and their gazes locked again. “I trust you, Rashia. I told you, have your way with me.” He tilted his head just enough and kissed her, a soft, sweet, chaste kiss. 

“Go for it, love.”

Anders groaned when she moved, sitting up and running her hands over his chest, nipples, hair, whatever her fingers could find purchase on. She clenched her thighs and encouraged his thrusts to meet with hers as she pulled herself up and down again and again. And so it went for some time as she brought him his pleasure over and over, only reveling in her own when it was convenient. 

After one particular joining where they’d both come at once, she finally pulled away, looking over at Anders to watch him bask in his bliss. She would definitely keep the memory of such a genuine smile of contentment in her mind when she left tomorrow.

“Hey Anders?” she hummed tiredly, hoping he wasn’t already halfway towards the Fade. He hummed back in reply. “Yeah?”

“I have something I want to give you when we get back to the room. Think you have enough energy to put your clothes back on and wander back that way?” Anders groaned, satisfied, and feeling pleasantly sore. Being on the receiving end of Rashia was certainly very different than when he was doing the, well... doing. She seemed much more herself again after that. 

“Sure, of course. What about everything else?”

“Oh, I have someone coming by in the morning. It’s fine. C’mon, let’s go so we can bathe and sleep.” So they dressed and walked back to her rooms, holding hands all the way. Eventually Pounce came across their path, and Rashia watched Anders pick him up and fuss over him while she cleaned up for bed.

When he put Pounce down he glanced over at her, a curious look on his face.

“You said you had something for me, didn’t you? What is it?”

She gave a start, remembering. “Oh, thanks for the reminder... where did I put that now... ah, here it is.” She dug around her trunk until she found a shoulder-slung bag made of worn leather.

“It’s not fine enough to draw attention, but the leather itself is sturdy and cured to resist burning and things,” she rattled off as she opened it to show him the contents inside. “I’ve also left some letters in here, and an official Wardens’ seal...” Anders frowned. “Why a seal? Where would I be going? Not trying to get rid of me now are you?”

“No, of course not,” she said softly, raising a comforting hand to stroke his cheek. “Just precautions. If there’s ever something Nathaniel can’t help you with, some trouble you have to run from, everything you might need should be there. Got it? Just don’t lose it. And for goodness sake, take your uniform with you too. No robes, either. I’ve shown you how you use a sword with your magic, that should help with–”

“Rashia.”

Rashia blinked, her chattering ceasing. “Anders, I...” 

“I know.” In truth, he wasn’t sure why she felt the need to give him these things, but he trusted her judgement and would keep them close just in case. If only to ease her fears. “Thank you, Rashia. It’s a very thoughtful gift.”

Rashia sighed deeply, feeling like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. 

“And there’s room for Ser Pounce in there too!” she teased, and Anders laughed. He gathered his things while she finished up some final packing, but eventually they retired for bed together, warm and safe and content.

Rashia prayed to Andraste that night to keep Anders safe, prayed that her precautions would be enough. If Andraste couldn’t keep him safe, then they would, she was certain.

\---

When she first set foot in Darktown, her thoughts were full of the recruit who was, apparently, her cousin. 

“You know where Anders is?” she’d asked, a little more fiercely than she’d meant to. She'd come back to the Vigil to find him and Justice missing, and a sinking feeling settled in her gut.

Bethany had flinched a little but paused, seeing something in Rashia that made her smile sadly in reply. “I knew where he _was_. He was running a clinic for the Blight refugees in Darktown. Although it’s been long enough I suspect they’re just Fereldan refugees now. Anyone who might have been blighted he’s probably long since taken care of now...”

Rashia ran a hand through her hair. Not even a few days had passed when she set off again, this time for Kirkwall.

Now all she had to do was find this clinic.

She glanced around, a young man selling what looked like poison ingredients was hawking his wares nearby. Hmm. Must be Tomwise, according to what Lirene told her. Slowly, so as not to startle any of Darktown’s skittish residents, she sidled up to Tomwise’s stall to peruse his stock.

“Good morning, serrah. See something you like?”

Rashia chuckled, her eyes lighting up as she found a few stray distillation agents at the edge of his collection. She pointed to them. “I’ll pay extra for those if you don’t mind directing me to the Healer.” She laid her Fereldan accent on a little harder than usual, hoping to ease him into trusting her. He frowned, and she realized it hadn’t worked completely, though the man wasn’t yet making a scene.

“Honest,” she insisted, “’m not here to cause trouble. He’s an old friend, and Bethany Hawke told me he was here. Also,” she fumbled with a pack of supplies Lirene had given her, “Lirene told me to give him these since she didn’t have a runner handy.”

That seemed to placate the man, who nodded. “Don’t need to pay extra. I’ll even sell ‘em to you half price if you want, since you’re a friend of the Healer.”

She shook her head. 

“Full price at least. I insist. Can’t be easy making a living in the sewers, even if you are supplying the Carta with a quarter or so of their poison ingredients.” 

He laughed as he took her coin and wrapped up the agents. “Yeah, you really are a friend of the Healer. He always insists on paying me for poison counteragents and things, even when I know he can barely afford to feed himself... must’ve gotten that from you.”

She took the things he handed her and listened intently as he gave her directions to the clinic. 

“Thank you very much,” she offered him as she left. “Nah, just doin’ business.”

She hummed quietly to herself as she walked away. “Might be doing more than just a little business, depending...”

It didn’t take her long to reach the clinic. It seemed to be a slow day for him, with only a few refugees milling around the area. She frowned when she noticed a young woman with the Amell crest on her clothing and wearing two large daggers strapped to her side enter the clinic with a beardless dwarf carrying a crossbow and... a white haired elven man carrying the largest greatsword she’d ever seen slung across his back.

Huh. Seeing the Amell crest, she doubted they were going to be much trouble for Anders, but she decided to loiter about the entrance just in case...

“Anders!” the woman’s voice called. 

Rashia smiled at the sound. It was just a few pitches lower than Bethany’s but full of the same infectious happiness. There was a sigh, deep and bone weary. “Yes, Hawke? What do you need?”

That was it. Anders. Different, somehow though. She wondered how much of it was Justice, the city, or Karl... she’d had Bethany tell her as much as she could about Anders before she left again, not wanting to walk into the city blind. Knowing that Karl had been made Tranquil had broken her heart a little, and then knowing that Anders had killed him to spare him the fate of a living that way forever...

“Bone pit again,” came the reply. Anders scoffed lightly. “I noticed. Yesterday the clinic was overflowing with them. When do you need me?” 

“Whenever you can spare a moment. Today, would be great?”

“Phfagh. The mage can never spare a moment. Why not ask someone else instead?” Rashia frowned. The lilts in that accent were familiar. Where had she heard them before?

“Because we need a healer, Fenris,” came the sharp reply. Anders sighed again. “It’s... fine. I can... I can do today.”

It didn’t sound like he could do today. She had to do something.

Quickly she turned around and rapped sharply on the edge of the doorway to get everyone’s attention. “Excuse me, I have supplies for the Healer.”

This time, Anders’ eyes were the first pair she saw.

He gasped, stood, and stumbled backwards.

“Commander!” It was almost a whisper, his shocked exclamation was so low in his throat. He looked... almost afraid of her. She sighed, ever so slightly. Bethany had told her of his first reaction when she and her sister had found him the first time, healing a young boy in the clinic. How he’d assumed that they’d been sent by the Wardens to bring him back.

That part she still didn’t quite understand, having only the order reports of a single particular patrol, and their unfortunate fates to go on.

But she held his gaze for just a moment longer before glancing at the others.

The dwarf was eyeing her critically. She wondered if he recognized her from the Hanged Man, as she’d seen him around while she’d finagled the bartender’s last decent room off of him. The elf was less friendly, though not outright glaring at her yet. His ears were flicked back, like a cat’s. She’d seen similar expressions on Velanna often enough. And she’d finally placed the traces in his accent, remembering hearing similar inflections in the voices of the slavers she’d killed in Denerim’s alienage.

“Commander? Who are you, exactly?”

Rashia looked up, meeting the other woman’s eyes. A clear, piercing blue, unlike her sister’s soft honeyed browns. 

“Forgive me,” Rashia offered, inclining her head and offering a gentle smile to the other woman, “I am Warden Commander Rashia Amell of Amaranthine. Just here to check up on a friend. A Bethany Hawke told me he’d be here.”

“W-Warden? Wait... Amell? _You’re_ the Hero of Ferelden?”

She sounded so surprised. Rashia couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not really all that much to look at up close, am I? Sorry to disappoint.”

“No, no,” the woman insisted, “it’s just... we’re...”

“Cousins, I know. You must be Marian.” Marian nodded, still a little in awe. Then she seemed to remember something and she straightened up a bit. “You said Bethany sent you here. So... she’s all right then?”

Rashia shrugged. “As all right as one can be with darkspawn blood in one’s veins, but yes. She’s alive.” She glanced at Anders and gave him a pointed look. “As are you, I see.” Anders tried to open his mouth to say something, but Marian interrupted. “Well, if you need to catch up, we can go find someone else...” Rashia cocked her head. “You still need a healer, don’t you? Anders might need his rest, but I’m capable enough. And, since I killed the Archdemon, well... one would hope I can hold my own in a fight.”

“You’re a mage?” Fenris, the white haired elf spat.

She nodded her head in ascent. “Yes. Apologies if that bothers you, though, considering the accent, and your being an elf... I don’t blame you. But I’d be a poor healer if I didn’t know a thing or two about more mundane healing practices, so...” She glanced back at Marian. “It’s your call."

“Well, I...” Marian fumbled, blushing a little. “I...” 

She paused, frowning. Staring at the bag Rashia had slung across her shoulder. It was, apparently, meowing. Rashia felt her face flush deeply, and she turned to Anders, who was shuffling, slowly, over in her direction, one hand still held close to his chest while the other twitched like it wanted to reach out.

Rashia sighed sheepishly as she undid the flap of the bag, and reached into it, pulling out a large orange cat from within its depths. And, on its forehead, were a few distinctive marks in the shape of an ‘M’. 

“Ser Pounce!” Anders exclaimed, immediately reaching out for him.

Smart kitty that he was, Pounce let himself be held, and Rashia smiled sadly as she watched him cling to Pounce as tightly as the cat would let him. He’d been so happy the first time she’d gifted Pounce to him, but now... it was different.

“You might be happy to know that I did my best to tear Stroud a new one for taking him from you while I was away. He almost cost me my best healer after all. Well,” she spat softly, “really all I wanted was to hit him, but I was fairly certain that would be in poor taste, so I had to make do with just my words instead. However,” she said slowly, glancing at Marian, “I am still itching to hit something, and if you could be so kind as to give me something to hit in order to vent a little steam, I would be most grateful, cousin.”

Marian blinked at her, mouth agape. She glanced at her companions.

“Uhh... well. Considering it’s the Bone Pit... that means there’s probably dragonlings again...”

Rashia’s mouth twitched upwards in a wry smile. 

“Dragonlings. Perfect. Alistair and I used to make a game of it when we came across them: who could cut off the most heads?”

Marian laughed. “Who... who won?” Rashia shrugged. “Usually, Alistair. After all, I’d never even touched a sword before I was conscripted, and Alistair had been one step short of becoming a Templar before his own conscription. It was no contest, really.” Marian eyed the sword at her back, which wasn’t much shorter than Fenris’ at a glance.

“But I assume you’re good with it now?” Rashia flashed her a wicked grin. 

“Wouldn’t lug it around if I didn’t know how to swing it, cousin. Besides, it’s the last thing I ever had enchanted, and it casts just as well as a staff in a pinch.”

Marian was still trying to find her words when Rashia pulled something else from the bag she’d had slung over her shoulder. Something blue. Varric whistled. “Hey, that’s a Warden uniform, isn’t it?” She turned to flash a smile at him before looking back up at Anders, who seemed much more at ease with Pounce in his arms.

“You forgot these when you left. I told you to take the uniform, remember?”

“Sorry,” Anders laughed softly, a flush creeping up his neck and into his face, “I was... more concerned with staying alive at the time. I remembered not to wear robes, though.” She glanced at his coat, eyebrow raised. “Really? That coat, though...” Again, he laughed sheepishly, burying his face in Pounce’s fur.

“I... liked the feathers.”

Rashia groaned, and palmed her face with one hand. “Well, here,” she told him, placing the armor on the same table with the supplies, “take it anyway. You’re going to need it, one way or another.” Anders frowned and looked up from Pounce for the first time. “What? Why?”

“Because I don’t abandon my Wardens. And I made you a promise, didn’t I?”

_To keep you safe_. It went unsaid.

“So, hey... um, cousin?” Rashia turned, looking at Marian, who seemed to have gotten over her initial awe at last. “Yes?” Rashia tilted her head, waiting for more. “I would like to take you up on that offer... for a healer.” Rashia grinned. “Perfect. I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Now would be best.” “I can do now.”

“Good, then let’s go.”

And so they left, leaving Anders to get reacquainted with Pounce, though Fenris eyed the mage and his cat for just a few moments more before turning to leave.

\---

Later after making certain that the Bone Pit was entirely clear of dragonlings or adult dragons, they arrived back in Kirkwall, choosing to go their separate ways for the night - it had been a long day.

Well, most of them.

Just as Rashia was about to turn and follow the dwarf back toward the Hanged Man, she heard a low voice call out to her.

“Wait, please.”

The elf, Fenris. She turned back to him, tilting her head in her curiosity. “Yes?” 

“I wish to speak to you about... Anders. Would you accompany me home?” She hummed a little, thinking. “I suppose. Show me the way, if you please.”

And so he did, though it surprised her that his “home” was a run-down mansion; the floor of the foyer littered with a variety of corpses. They appeared to have been there for a while, as most were completely skeletal while others were feeding the collections of mushrooms that also lived there.

“Interesting choice in decor,” she mused. Fenris grunted. 

“They discourage anyone brave enough to break in from ever doing so again. And they provide all manner of entertainment when they do.”

Rashia chuckled. “Hey, whatever works for you. And I think some of those might be deep mushrooms; good for stamina potions. You should have Anders look at them.” Fenris grunted again, and it wasn’t until he knelt next to a fire in order to light it that she realized they had arrived in the room the elf had claimed as his. “Speaking of,” she said slowly, “you wanted to discuss him?”

After a few strikes of the flint, the fire was roaring again.

“Yes, I did.” The reply was short, but not as biting as his original words for her had been. He opened a bottle of wine that had been sitting on a nearby table and fumbled for some glasses that had been set aside. “Forgive me, I don’t usually use these... I generally tend to drink straight from the bottle... or throw them at the wall.”

Rashia eyed a particularly large stain on one wall. “I noticed.”

Fenris looked up and stared at her for a moment before returning to pouring some of the wine into the glasses, handing her one. She took it, gingerly, being careful not to brush her fingers against his.

It was a while before he spoke.

“Why... come back for him after all this time?”

“Mmm.” Rashia paused to take a sip of the wine, burying the other hand not holding the glass into her pocket while she stood, staring at the fire.

“I didn’t learn of his disappearance until I returned from Wiesshaupt, the Warden headquarters in the Anderfels. I had been ordered to give a few reports in person, and it took quite a while to travel there and back, nevermind that I’d had to wait for half a year for the snows in the mountain pass to let up enough for me to return. Believe me, if it had been no small thing to just send some reports through the post, I would have, Anders probably wouldn’t have left. Not that I know _why_ , exactly... so, that’s why I came. I wanted to know.”

“You seemed to know that he’s an abomination.”

She winced, but said nothing. 

“He wasn’t, when I left. Justice was still just a spirit trapped in a decaying corpse, and Anders was Anders.” She sighed. “But when I learned that not only Anders had disappeared on a particular patrol where all the Wardens on it had ended up _dead_ , but that _Justice_ had, as well...” She took a deep drink of the wine. “It was Bethany who told me what I needed to know to make the connection. And there was another thing I wanted to know. _Why_ he joined with Justice in the first place. He certainly wasn’t jumping to do so when I left. He’s a spirit healer like me. We studied the same books, he should’ve known better!”

She slapped her other hand against the mantle of the fireplace, the sound echoing around the room until all that could be heard was the crackling of the fire, and the soft panting of her agitated breathing.

“He _did_ know better...” she whispered, downing the last of the glass and setting it down before she did something stupid, like throw it against the wall.

“But what’s done is done,” she murmured, “and I meant it when I said I don’t abandon my Wardens. I have no idea what possessed him to come to Kirkwall in the first place... heh. Wait, nevermind. Don’t even comment on that. Actually... it was Karl, I think. And because all of us spirit healers are such bleeding hearts, he couldn’t bring himself to leave all the refugees here.”

She groaned, palming her face and massaging the tension from her brow.

“I hate this city. Why do people live here, anyway? Stupid city, built on stupid Tevinter ruins that were built over the bloody Deep Roads! ‘s no wonder most of the apprentices in the Gallows don’t even make it to their Harrowings. Veil’s so thin here the air’s practically bleeding demons... but, ugh. That’s... not what you want to hear. Sorry.”

She picked up the wine glass and stared at it. 

“Wow, that’s some powerful stuff... good vintage too.”

“Hmmph. Courtesy of my former master.” 

Rashia glanced at him again. “About that... did you kill them?” Fenris frowned. “Why do you ask?” Rashia shrugged. “You’ve got a fortune of lyrium embedded in your skin, someone invested a lot of time into you. Speaking of... how badly do they hurt? I can’t even fathom how you’re still alive to begin with...”

By now she had poured herself another glass of wine and was slowly, continuously sipping at it, sitting perched on the edge of the chair across from Fenris’ and staring at nothing in particular.

“I... regret to say that I missed my opportunity to kill him.” he finally said after a while. “But if he wants me, he knows where to find me. I haven’t made an effort to hide myself here. As for the pain...” he glanced at the wine bottle on the table, “I have my ways of managing.”

Now it was Rashia’s turn to grunt. 

“Not that I should be talking, considering as how I’m trying to drown my own inadequacies in this wine, you really shouldn’t do that. ‘s not good for your liver. You should...” she swore, though it was something in elvhen that Fenris couldn’t pick up. “I know you hate magic and you have every blasted reason to, but you should really see Anders about it. I’m a good healer and I could probably dull the pain for a little while if you asked it of me, but Anders is better.” She frowned, noticing that her glass was empty again.

“I should really stop. But that wine is helping to forget what a terrible commander I am, so...” she reached over and poured herself another glass.

Fenris chuckled softly as he watched her sip at it even faster than before.

“Yes, you really shouldn’t be lecturing me about drowning my pain in wine, but... perhaps you have a point.” He finished his glass off and poured himself another as well. But before he took another drink he looked at Rashia and said quietly, “I... disagree with you about being a terrible commander. From what you have told me... you did the best with what you had, but... if you had been there to stop him from running, Bethany would likely be dead.”

Rashia blinked at him. “I... suppose that’s true. Thank you.”

Fenris grunted again, and there was silence between them once more. Finally Rashia set down her glass again, but didn’t pick up the bottle this time.

“Is... is there more you wanted to ask, or can I go?”

Fenris paused, thinking. “I... do not have any more questions at present. Perhaps... some other time you could tell me more about how this... Justice became trapped in a decaying corpse?” Rashia chuckled, and stood to leave.

“Sure. I’m going to be sticking around for a little while anyway to see what I can do about getting his clinic sanctioned... or an outpost established, or something. After what the Circle did to him, no way in the Void am I letting it take him back.” She slung her sword over her shoulders and was about to head for the door before something occurred to her, and she turned around, catching Fenris’ gaze and holding it.

“Say, um... I’m not going to be able to stay here forever, but it looks you might be sticking around a while. I... know I probably have no right to ask this, but I could pay you if you really wanted it...”

“Say what it is you wish to say, Commander.”

Rashia grunted. “Watch over him for me? At least until I can get a Warden that I trust who isn’t a mage to help keep him and Justice out of trouble... that’s it.”

There was silence for a moment before Fenris answered.

“Fine. And keep your coin. That clinic of his needs it more than I do. I’ll guard it whenever I’m not on a job for Hawke.” 

Rashia nodded. “And... maybe help out a little, if you can. Lirene tells me that she tries to help him out sometimes but she has a shop to run, and there are few who would help out a healer to begin with, never mind a mage. There’s always bandages that need cleaning and folding and wrapping, potions that need brewing and such. You know, something to consider.”

Fenris grunted again, but didn’t disagree.

And when Rashia came to Anders’ clinic the next morning, she found him there, leaning on a wall not far from the entrance. Maybe, she’d be able to keep her healer safe after all.

And maybe, just maybe, the elf didn’t dislike mages as much as he did.

Especially this one in particular. 

**Author's Note:**

> Want to tumble with me? I'm rather enamored with Dragon Age right now, so my blog's covered in it. Come say hi! I also talk about other things too. Link's down below.
> 
> http://timesorceror.tumblr.com/


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